


Good Form

by ranianke



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Anakin is Confused and Horny, Anakin is a Leaky Boi, And Obi-Wan’s Massive—, Bottom Anakin Skywalker, D/s Vibes, Feat. Anakin’s Massive Praise Kink, M/M, Obi-Wan is a Tease, PWP, Top Obi-Wan Kenobi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:01:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26127685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ranianke/pseuds/ranianke
Summary: Obi-Wan needs help shooting a training video. What could go wrong?—or,Anakin and Obi-Wan make a porno.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 15
Kudos: 195





	Good Form

**Author's Note:**

> The fic formerly known as Workout AU, aka “I got horny while watching training videos”.  
> Kudos to basically the whole Obikin discord for workshopping the uh…“plot”...with me. This fic is for you, fellow gremlins.
> 
> Special thanks to [septemberist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/septemberist/pseuds/septemberist) for her beta skills and for cheering me ever onward, and to [luckee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luckee/pseuds/luckee) for the title and for being my go-to shorts consultant / all-around delightful human.
> 
> Enjoy!

“This progression starts in a high guard.”

Anakin’s muscles settled happily into the Djem So opening stance. It felt like relaxing back into a well-worn armchair, one made to fit him from years of use. His body felt alert and strong, rested and ready to work. Not that he expected today to be much work at all.

“From that high guard, come down with an overhead slash. You’ll end back in a neutral defensive stance.”

Anakin pantomimed the movement easily at a slow pace, freezing completely still when his arms reached their destination. Every muscle was precisely where it should be; no tremors or uncertainty marred his movements.

“Next, shift your weight and move into a side kick. Keep your weight on your dominant leg in back.”

Anakin moved without thought or hesitation. He settled into the position with the confidence and surety of thousands of hours of practice. He felt a wave of fond nostalgia as he moved through these well-practiced forms once more under Obi-Wan’s careful eye.

“You’ll notice Anakin does an excellent job of keeping his weight distributed so that he is immovable.”

Obi-Wan’s hand touched his shoulder approvingly. Anakin felt a glow of warmth spread through him at his former Master’s words. It was so rare for them to be able to spend time together outside of a mission; it felt like old times again, except that today Obi-Wan only seemed to have compliments for him.

“Able to resist outside forces.”

The hand suddenly shoved his shoulder. Anakin tried to not quirk a smile as he barely moved to accommodate the pressure before returning easily to his position with his torso aligned just right.

“Excellent, Anakin.”

Anakin unexpectedly felt the light touch of fingertips under his chin. He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.

“Notice how his eyes are looking straight ahead. You cannot fight if you are looking at your feet. You must trust yourself, trust your training, and trust in the Force. It will help you find your way across uneven terrain without your eyes.”

When Obi-Wan had asked him to model a set of Djem So forms in a training holo for Padawan learners, Anakin had been a little hesitant to spend two whole days going through easy motions instead of progressing his lightsaber craft or tinkering on speeders or—frankly anything else. But he was finding himself glad he’d agreed. And Obi-Wan was always hard to refuse.

_Anakin, these holos will be used for quite some time. And I dare say, you would do a disservice to many future generations of Djem So learners by refusing to share your craft with them._

His cheeks heated slightly at the memory of receiving such untempered praise from Obi-Wan. His former Master had never been very free with compliments, and Anakin was still unused to the ease with which Obi-Wan praised him now that he was a Jedi Knight. It did things to Anakin’s stomach, made him feel hot and twisted up inside every time Obi-Wan smiled at him with a “ _good work, Knight Skywalker”_.

“Now advance in a series of four parries and ripostes.”

Anakin felt a bead of sweat fly off his forehead as his hands, arms, and shoulders moved slowly together in perfect concert to hit each mark with precision. It was more challenging to move through the kata at a glacial pace with perfect form than it was at his normal blistering speed, but he felt invigorated by the challenge. 

“Excellent, beautifully done Anakin.” 

Obi-Wan’s words felt like warm honey spreading over his mind. Anakin felt it drip into the stressed and harried parts of himself, clarifying and stilling the chaos there. 

Fingers grazed the underside of his elbow. Anakin almost flinched, but his arms were tensed in the stance and betrayed nothing.

“See how his elbows never drop below his navel. When your head is lifted and your core and shoulders are engaged, you will stay high. If your elbows drop, it is because your core is not strong.”

Obi-Wan circled him, scrutinizing as he weighed his next words. His eyes were impenetrable and dire, like waves crashing on the shore from a rough sea as they raked over each and every inch of exposed skin, and Anakin felt stripped bare beneath them. He had forgotten what it was like to be under the demanding and judging eyes of his Master. 

“Keep your core strong, always, and the rest will follow. Without a strong center, you will not succeed in this kata.” 

A soft touch stroked over Anakin’s tensed abdominals. He did flinch at that, though it was barely perceptible. He didn’t think the holo would catch it, but Obi-Wan’s eyes flicked up to his, blue steel under the smallest hint of a lifted brow, and Anakin knew it had not escaped the gaze of his Master. Heat rushed through him at the thought.

“Next you’ll move into an aerial slash. This is the most difficult piece of the kata.”

Anakin felt warmth surge through his core and his legs as he sprang forward into the jump, knees giving slightly at his landing. This one had taken him many frustrated months to perfect as a Padawan. Obi-Wan had coached him through it as he always did: unyieldingly meticulous as he corrected a breath, the placement of a knee, the angle of a foot with mind-boggling precision.

He felt a hand settle on his back foot, and fingers grazed the bare skin of his ankle. Shivers ran up his calves at the touch. 

“Notice the precise angle between his feet here. Anakin has placed his dominant foot at an exact forty-five degree angle. This is not trivial; it will take you months of determined focus to achieve this precision.”

Anakin felt his face flush as Obi-Wan’s implicit praise washed over him. He remembered those months, months in which he’d despaired that Obi-Wan would ever smile upon him approvingly, months in which he’d felt as if he was never going to match up to the ideal Padawan that lived in Obi-Wan’s head. 

Obi-Wan’s hand trailed up his bare leg and stopped at his knee, leaving a trail of raised hairs in its wake. He remained crouched below Anakin’s line of sight, and Anakin found the thought much more distracting than he ought to.

“Notice the position of his knees.”

Anakin was wearing fitted shorts and a tank top to better demonstrate the precise angles and positions of his limbs, but the way Obi-Wan was looking at and touching him made him suddenly feel he was wearing nothing at all. 

His eyes glanced down to meet his former Master’s. Obi-Wan’s eyes seemed to look straight through him into the hidden parts of him, seeing the heat and temptation that lay buried there. Those eyes narrowed slightly.

“Your knees should end up in about this angle once you land. Keep them flexed upon impact to prevent injury. You cannot always use the Force to help you with landings; your focus may be elsewhere. Compensating with the Force is no substitute for proper, precise form.” 

The lecturing tone struck deep into Anakin’s mind, dredging up memories of years of critique and evaluation. “ _About this angle._ ” Had his landing had been a touch too stiff; had he not bent his knees enough upon impact? Even years after gaining his Knighthood, he would never escape the fear of not being perfect enough in the eyes of his Master.

Obi-Wan stood and backed away. Anakin exhaled abruptly, and he realized he hadn’t been breathing.

“Lastly, advance with two overhead strikes alternated with parries.”

Anakin moved, blade flashing left and right at something slightly closer to a normal speed as he unconsciously felt the need to show off, to prove to his Master that he had made the right decision in asking for his help. He _knew_ no one else was as perfect and precise in their Djem So. Anakin was the best, and he just had to force Obi-Wan to see it and admit it, over and over again. He didn’t think he would ever get tired of hearing Obi-Wan’s praise.

He halted, flushed, and felt his breath coming slightly harder for the first time since they’d begun. Obi-Wan circled him once more, watching his chest rising and falling, noting the position of his elbows and knees and feet. Anakin’s breath caught for a moment as he awaited judgment.

“Beautiful, Anakin. Excellently done.”

Relief like cool water flowed over his head and trickled down to his feet. Fingers on his lower back stilled his breath once more. 

“Notice how centered his weight is here.”

Another hand came to Anakin’s front to rest over his lower abdomen. Anakin went perfectly motionless, barely able to breathe at the body heat that felt like a burning brand, searing his skin through the thin top he wore. Those hands pushed at him, alternating front to back in a rhythm that had Anakin’s breath once again coming in short pants. He felt his cock stir under his flimsy shorts, and he suddenly thought desperately of cold waterfalls and stony mountains and Mace Windu’s disapproving face and—

“See how hard and unyielding he is here. You must develop intense strength and control throughout your core to master this form.”

His cock twitched with even more intensity at the clear approval in his Master’s voice and a tiny gasp escaped him. A droplet of sweat beaded on his brow and fell, landing on Obi-Wan’s arm. That arm paused in its motion and tensed up ever so slightly.

He felt his Master’s narrowed gaze suddenly sweeping over every inch of him. The thought made Anakin even wretchedly harder, knowing that there was no way the eyes that caught every misplaced step in a kata could possibly miss the unmistakable bulge just inches away from where Obi-Wan’s fingertips rested. 

Eyes rose to meet his, and Anakin felt his shame creep across his cheeks in a spreading burn at the frank evaluation in that gaze. His Master’s expression was colored with a familiar tinge of irritation and disapproval that Anakin had hoped to never see again.

“Once more at full speed this time, Anakin.” 

The tone was velvet and iron, betraying nothing. Obi-Wan took three steps back to give him space, but kept his eyes locked on Anakin’s. 

“Opening stance.”

Anakin took a deep breath and glanced skyward in supplication to the cosmic Force to see him through this with his dignity intact. He brought his hands up overhead, knowing it would only highlight the line of his chest down to the tented folds of his shorts. He tried not to let his arms tremble with humiliation, even as they were alight and buzzing with a flush of nervous energy. 

The silence stretched on longer than Anakin expected. He couldn’t see Obi-Wan, couldn’t tell where his eyes rested, what expression lay upon his face. Obi-Wan gave nothing away, made no sound.

Anakin could only be grateful that the holocamera was positioned where it couldn’t see the shame burning red upon his face. His arms shook with tiny tremors; hot acid churned in his belly and burned its way up his throat. _What was Obi-Wan waiting for?_

The unbearable silence stretched on. His neck itched with the knowledge that Obi-Wan’s eyes were upon him, watching and judging as Anakin panted in shallow breaths. He felt light and airy, hot and grounded, all at once. Every inch of his body tingled with energy that danced over his skin. 

A droplet of sweat fell from his brow to the floor below.

“Begin.” 

Anakin surged into motion. He slashed, parried, and leapt as adrenaline pumped through his veins and sheer relief resonated through his muscles. He felt every breath and step with precise awareness as he reveled in the glorious physicality of movement and release. He was wild, electrically present. 

Every step and block was incandescent, overflowing with energy, and Anakin knew that in this moment he was becoming greater than he had known he could be. The knowledge of his Master’s eyes watching him fueled him, made him sharper and faster; they saw his shame, but also must behold his glory. Anakin was better than any Jedi ever before him. He _knew_ that without words. He knew he was the best that would ever come to be, and he needed that awareness to be reflected in his Master’s eyes, to hear him speak those words, _Yes, Anakin. You were perfect._

All at once it was done. 

His feet were splayed in the final pose, saber held aloft in a final parry. He was exultant, flushed with deep and sure knowledge from the act of being more than himself, from reaching higher and deeper into the Force itself to make himself glorious in its splendor. 

Soft footsteps sounded from behind him. Obi-Wan entered his field of vision, hands clasped, head tilted in consideration. His eyes seemed a deeper blue, soft at the edges and lit with some kind of regard that Anakin had never seen before. He felt his breath leave him. Obi-Wan looked upon him for a long moment.

“Truly spectacular, Anakin,” he murmured. Obi-Wan’s words were soft, spoken not for the holocam, but for him and him alone.

Anakin felt empty and light and wobbly inside even as his body responded to the words with a rush that left him feeling faint. He couldn’t speak, wouldn’t speak. His eyes bored into Obi-Wan’s. He couldn’t help but feel the hardness in his shorts intensifying along with a spreading dampness that would be clearly visible against the bright fabric. But he couldn’t, _wouldn’t_ feel shame in this moment. 

He’d pushed through all his limits, all the barriers in his limbs and his mind, and had found a transcendent and shining pathway through that kata as if the Force itself had possessed him to take it. He felt more alive here and now than ever, trembling with his heart beating in his throat, and he felt his cock throb and leak more earnestly as he stared into the soul of the one man who could ever judge him. Those grey-green eyes crinkled ever so slightly at the corners as they looked into his own before moving to linger over the lengths of his arms, the expanse of his chest, the lines of his legs. 

Anakin could not find it in himself to care in this moment about the arousal leaking and bulging through his shorts. It was mere proof of his utter abandonment of the mundane as he worked with his whole body, mind, and soul for this man’s approval. He wanted to reach perfection for him, with him, wanted it with every muscle and fiber in his body. Obi-Wan did this to him, made him better, made him _more_ than he was with anyone else.

Obi-Wan stepped closer, his eyes darkening and lids lowered as he let his gaze roam openly, hungrily. Anakin’s breath stuttered. In all the years he’d known his former Master, he had never once seen him wear the expression that he did now. 

Obi-Wan’s face was written in hard, inscrutable lines under the harsh lights, but his eyes hungered and his chest rose and fell as if he had been the one to perform the kata. His breath tumbled through barely parted lips, and there was a rough edge to it that was only magnified in the perfect silence of the room. 

Anakin felt seized by a madness. He envied the air itself, free to slide between those mesmerizing lips and caress his Master’s tongue with wantonness, filling up the lungs in his chest and pumping blood through his heart. Anakin wanted. Anakin waited. 

Obi-Wan sank to his knees, head bowed but mere inches away from Anakin’s hardness. Anakin felt his lungs spasm as the air in them was replaced abruptly by the vacuum of space. His limbs locked into place as if Obi-Wan was holding them there with the Force. 

Perhaps he was.

Obi-Wan’s fingers touched his foot and ankle gently with simple brushes that sent sparks flying up through Anakin’s legs to settle deep into his groin. He felt his balls tighten, clenching uncontrollably. 

Obi-Wan made approving noises as he touched each precise point of posture that he had spent months drilling into Anakin’s very muscles and mind. He could hear Obi-Wan in his head coaching him on each one as his fingers now danced across his skin.

Anakin felt his tattered sense of control fly further apart with each successive caress. His body seemed to no longer respond to him, but to Obi-Wan. Every touch and hum lit sparks under his skin and stoked the heat in his chest higher. _It was fitting_ , Anakin decided faintly with the remnant of his brain that could still form such thoughts. His mind and soul were already irrevocably governed by the man in front of him; it was only right that his body obey him as well. 

Finger pads roughened by decades of saber practice ghosted over his kneecaps and trailed up the sides of his thighs before pulling away. Obi-Wan stood and circled him, brushing a stretch of exposed skin on his lower back, still murmuring in approval with each touch. Heat and cold shocked through Anakin’s nerves in devastating currents from each point of contact, electric waves that kept him magnetized to the floor and burning up within. His limbs remained locked in place. 

Warmth radiated over his thigh and flank as Obi-Wan stepped even closer, hovering just on the edge of contact. Anakin flinched with his whole body as fingers connected once again with damp skin to trace the silhouette of his hamstring over the swell of muscle and along the taut tendon, dancing under the edge of flimsy crimson fabric to find the muscle’s end. Anakin felt like he would explode into a thousand pieces. Wetness dripped steadily from his cock as it throbbed in time with each agonizing brush of his shorts.

Obi-Wan’s lips were close enough to his ear that Anakin could feel the vibrations of individual breaths. He shuddered in time with them, helpless as a leaf in a gale. He couldn’t go on like this. 

Obi-Wan suddenly let out a low sound as his hand gripped the swell of Anakin’s ass. Anakin gasped as strong fingers dug into his muscles and a fingernail grazed inward, teasing toward the hole that clenched in time with Anakin’s high frantic breaths. 

Obi-Wan’s murmured words caressed his ear.

_Excellent form, Anakin._

A shockwave rippled through Anakin. His head fell backward and his eyes squeezed shut as rolling bursts of pleasure consumed his body, wracking his limbs and wrenching a keening noise from his throat. His balls clenched and his cock throbbed and spurted sticky wetness into his shorts. Anakin was consumed in white fire where he stood, shaking in silent ecstasy as his knees trembled.

Lines of traitorous wetness dripped down his legs, bared to the world to see.

He jolted once more as that teasing finger brushed against his soft, hot entrance in a playful swipe before it was gone. 

He stood there for several long moments, shuddering at odd intervals as tiny waves crashed over his senses. As the waves eddied and retreated, he found himself bereft, wet and soaking on a shore after a storm had passed, trembling and weak.

Anakin felt a wash of shame chasing out the lingering ecstasy. He stood dripping in the proof of his unfitness to be a Jedi, his lack of control. He had never felt brought so low in all the years he’d known Obi-Wan. He shuddered, horrified as he contemplated what it meant now that his secrets were plain to see.

Obi-Wan would leave and find someone else to finish the film. He would never touch Anakin again, surely, now that Obi-Wan knew the depth of depravity he held within him, the extent of his unfitness to serve in this Temple. 

He would leave Anakin, and Anakin would be alone. 

The silence stretched in the small gymnasium room. The blinking light of the holocamera reflected off the mirrored wall into Anakin’s eyes, blinding him in red with each flash of the damning proof of his deeds. _Shame. Shame. Leave this place._

He heard a shift of fabrics from behind him but he couldn’t bear to turn and see the expression on Obi-Wan’s face.

“Next form, Anakin.”

Anakin’s head whipped back to where Obi-Wan stood, seeking out those eyes to understand what he could not have just heard. The voice was stern and utterly indifferent. His eyes were flat and grey in an impassive face.

Heat filled Anakin’s limbs and his breath was thin. His lightsaber rested tenuously in a limp hand. 

_Surely he didn’t mean that._

Obi-Wan’s face gave him nothing.

“Next form, Anakin. I will not repeat myself again.”

Obi-Wan’s tone offered no room for opposition or defiance.

Anakin couldn’t contemplate going on. He couldn’t understand why Obi-Wan was still here. Anakin had to leave this place. 

But he couldn’t ignore his Master. 

He shakily brought his lightsaber into a neutral guard stance. He kept waiting for Obi-Wan to laugh at him, condemn him, to say anything but these dry instructions.

“Opening stance. Quarter speed.”

Anakin stepped into the first parry position. His hands could barely keep steady, and his feet shuffled into place in awkward steps. What was this torture? Why didn’t Obi-Wan tell him to go shower, to leave, to never speak to him again? 

“Begin.”

His saber swept down and across as he thrust forward, settling into an uneasy, unbalanced lunge. A wet plop echoed through the space as a sticky, white droplet fell from Anakin’s calf to the floor.

“Next.”

Anakin gripped his lightsaber with sweaty hands as he moved his frantically trembling arms back into a defensive position.

Obi-Wan tutted softly as he considered Anakin’s absolutely wrecked form. Anakin felt the noise like a spear through his chest.

Obi-Wan moved closer as he continued watching, always looking, always judging. Anakin couldn’t meet his eyes. 

“Kick.”

Anakin’s leg obediently shot forward as Obi-Wan’s hand shot out to close around his ankle. He stood there for a long moment, keeping Anakin’s leg held aloft. Anakin’s breath shuddered and his chest seized with terror, but he couldn’t look away from where Obi-Wan’s thumb smeared through the clean line of come that trailed down his leg. 

Shame and arousal warred within Anakin’s body as he stood limply, barely able to breathe. A bead of milky liquid gathered upon Obi-Wan’s fingernail as they stood locked together, immobile.

“Tell me Anakin,” Obi-Wan said with an arched brow, “Where is your focus? You do not seem very mindful of your thoughts today.”

Anakin opened his mouth, but nothing but air came out.

The fingers released his leg, and Anakin watched in horror as Obi-Wan brought his hand to his face as if to stroke his beard. Instead, at the last moment his lips parted and closed around his thumb with a soft wet noise.

Anakin whimpered. 

Obi-Wan’s eyes never left his as he licked his thumb clean. Anakin couldn’t look away from his face, eyes flickering between Obi-Wan’s gaze and those pink lips and the tip of a tongue.

“Continue, Anakin.”

Anakin took a shuddering breath and continued through one more wobbling set of parries. He couldn’t have deflected a single blade or blaster bolt at this point. 

“Next.” 

This was agony. He gathered his courage to speak.

“Obi-Wan—I—can I be excused?” His voice was reedy, weak, and wrecked. 

Obi-Wan cocked his head to the side as he considered Anakin’s state.

“Do you have somewhere to be?”

Obi-Wan’s tone was mocking and unwavering. Anakin felt like a sixteen year old once again, embarrassing himself and shaming his Master, unable to control his body or mind.

“I—I need to,” Anakin swallowed hard, “clean up.”

The truth of that statement echoed for a moment. The holocamera blinked steadily.

“Surely you haven’t gotten that sweaty yet, Anakin.”

Anakin felt unbearably lost. Did he truly not care or notice? Was this some sick game? Or was Obi-Wan just biding his time until he unleashed the full force of his contempt? He wanted to hide in the showers until Obi-Wan was gone, hide in his quarters until he could forget this entire day had ever happened. 

Obi-Wan pursed his lips as he contemplated Anakin, disappointment clear in the slant of his brows.

“I thought you wanted to show me how good your form is, Anakin. I must say I’m not currently impressed by your discipline or your commitment.”

Anakin shuddered in shame. His eyes burned and he could feel an awful wetness gathering.

“I’m sorry…Master.” The words came out in a wretched, tinny voice.

Obi-Wan’s gaze sharpened. He stepped close and tilted Anakin’s chin toward him as he looked him over. A softer expression came over his face.

“Very well, Anakin. It’s clear to me we can’t go much further today.”

Anakin felt himself sag in relief as a traitorous tear wound its way down his cheek. He extinguished the lightsaber in his hand. 

A thumb stroked gently over his chin and Anakin closed his eyes.

“You did beautifully, Anakin. Your form was better than I’ve ever seen it.”

Cool, sweet relief washed over his scalp, trickled down his arms, and pooled in his feet. He felt his shoulders tremble. Obi-Wan didn’t hate him. He didn’t want him to leave and never speak to him again. He was _proud_ of him.

“Go shower now, and I’ll ask the refectory to send some dinner up to your quarters.”

Anakin felt tension leave his shoulders and a grateful warmth fill his chest at the words. He didn’t think he could face another living soul today. 

“And I’ll see you back here tomorrow morning to finish the shoot.”

His eyes snapped open in horror. _Tomorrow._ A whole new round of torture waiting for him tomorrow morning.

“I expect you’ll be more composed after…a good night’s rest.”

The hand on his chin fell away and Obi-Wan’s feet padded quietly away as they made their way from the training room. Obi-Wan paused next to the holocamera to flick it off, folded up the tripod, and tucked it into his bag along with the camera.

“Sleep well, Anakin.”

Anakin watched him go. His legs were damp with sweat and sticky with drying come. His shorts were damp and ruined. His breath was ragged, and his mind was racing as he stared at the empty doorway.

_Fuck._

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me on [tumblr](https://spookyseahorse.tumblr.com/)
> 
> (Oh here’s the [video](https://youtu.be/ASdvN_XEl_c) that started it all. The redhead is 💯 boning Stephanie.)


End file.
